Agriculture and Innovation

Two very different takes on one farmer's experience

Reflecting on our two weeks in Brazil, I think about the diversity of opinions and approaches to sustainable agriculture and poverty reduction.  Healthy debates abounded on the bus rides in and out of the Brazilian sertao.  Two recent blog posts reminded me of this - Adah and Aaron had VERY different takes on the exact same experience that the two of them had on Baltazar's farm. 

Aaron took the self-proclaimed, more 'capitalist,' Wall Street approach, critiquing the model of farming in rural, arid regions of Brazil, while Adah viewed Baltazar as a flourishing entrepreneur and innovator who has "implemented many new technologies and farming methods" on his small plot of land.  Like Aaron, Adah also took a market oriented approach, reflecting that "These small farmers took on a new way of farming, not, as one would perhaps assume for survival, but to carve out new market opportunities."

Both question how sustainable the method of development is when it is heavily supported by a local NGO, and what the role of the NGO is, while acknowledging that there aren't many other options for farmers in this region - I wonder what else can be done in a region where options are so limited, in a place that's been left behind by the rest of Brazil.  I muse about the drought-stricken 'Environmental Migrants' of the region.

I encourage you to read the posts and comment on both... you can visit Aaron's and Adah's posts to see my critique and those of others.... consider leaving some thoughts of your own!

The Tradeoff: Sustainability, Welfare, or Charity?

by Aaron Scott Green

I admit it, I am a capitalist:  A big, bad, American capitalist who believes in the paradigm of consumer driven competitive markets.  I used to work on Wall Street.  The derivatives trading desk of one of the largest banks in the world that got us into the current economic crisis, I regretfully once called “Home.”

I am not apologetic.  The world is a competitive landscape where you either sink or swim. I just hope to stay afloat, maybe on a beautiful yacht along the way.  So why would I volunteer to participate in a trip that researched subsistence farming in rural Brasil?  11 women, 1 lone male for 2 weeks: Am I crazy?  Probably!

Brasil is not totally new to me, nor is farming for that matter.  I grew up on a pseudo “gentleman farm,” have worked for a fertilizer company, done landscaping for several years, and have close family friends who are large farmers in Brasil and are heads of some of the largest agriculture commodity trading companies in South America and the world.  So again, why study rural subsistence agriculture in a region so far away from what I like to call home?

Perhaps it is the challenge of changing my beliefs, my assumptions, and my value system.  When I reflect on who my closest life-long friends are, they are people who intelligently challenge everything I say, do, and believe.  They are people who can present an argument clearly, can play a strong devils advocate, and are not afraid to refuse to back down.  I wanted to explore whether my classmates, especially those with experience in the NGO world, had the same “chutzpah” as those who I call my closest friends.  Could they hold their own, and present equally sound arguments as those from the cut throat, heartless, finance world?  I was pleasantly surprised.  I left with far more questions then answers.

When I arrived at Baltazar’s farm in the rural arid Northeast I was immediately reminded of John Steinbeck’s description in Grapes of Wrath of the tumbleweed rolling through the arid plains of Oklahoma.  The ground was parched, the land barren, the livestock emaciated, and the trees wilting.  It was a depressing site to behold.  Yet in the midst of this agricultural wasteland their remained hope:  an uneducated farmer with nine children who was willing to take risks.  Baltazar was a true entrepreneur, or at least someone who embodied the spirit of the word.  He took the risk of switching from traditional pesticide laden agriculture to organic agroecological farming.  He couldn’t have been prouder.  He was no wealthier then before but had empowered himself to make choices.  The freedom to make choices boosted his confidence and made him content.  But even more surprising was what he wanted for his kids.  Education!  Farming was a means to an ends – a way of life he knew that was passed down from his father.  But he did not necessarily want the same life for his children.  Rather, farming for him was a means of supporting his family in the hopes that they would have options, the ability to choose what they would do for a living.  The freedom of choice is unfortunately tied to financial independence.  Without the means to support 9 children, at least four were living in urban favellas.  After transitioning to organic farming he is hopeful that for his youngest two, this will not also be their future.

Looking back on my stay with Baltazar’s family and my subsequent conversations with the NGO supporting Baltazar, I was overcome with frustration.  Why was such a kind, generous, entrepreneurial man stuck in such a poor situation?  The answer:  It’s complicated.  But what isn’t complicated is his reliance on a precious resource called Water – and there was a drought!

This led to broader questions.  Why was an NGO promoting agriculture in a naturally arid region?  Why were farmers located so far apart from one another making market aggregation/access all the more difficult?  Why were such limited water resources being implemented by the NGO while they simultaneously promoted crops that are relatively sensitive to drought?  Why promote multiple crops which prohibit scaling thereby inhibiting market access?  Why were antiquated forms of water management and irrigation being taught?  Why could no one quantify any form of financial impact these projects were having on the region beyond pointing to a growing number of organic farmers markets?

Many of these questions still remain unanswered which I have found to be incredibly frustrating.  However the fact that these questions have not been answered has taught me a lot.  What I have learned about subsistence farming in North East Brazil is that it is a multi-layered problem tied to many things, not the least of which are access to capital, education, water, land, work ethics, to just name a few.

To critique those who open their hearts to these people should not be viewed as vilification.  On the contrary, it should be viewed as suggestions of how to make improvements.  I believe there is a fundamental flaw in the current system.  NGOs and governments alike have limited resources and differing and often contradictory interests.  There will always be rich and poor people.  The real question is how large will the income disparity be and how will this impact the freedom of choice and representation? Rather than asking who can be helped we should be asking who should be helped.

Ideology plays a key role in answering this question.  Is the role of an NGO that of a charity, welfare system, or catalyst for creating sustainable farms that can support themselves without external assistance?  Charity implies that the farmers will remain subsistence, will never stand on their own, and assistance is merely a means of scraping by.  A welfare system is similar but implies a broader transformation at a communal level with the underlying assumption that farmers will perpetually be going in and out of the system.  Some may succeed for a while but may fall on hard times and need assistance once again.  Creating sustainable farms that graduate permanently from external assistance is much more difficult.

What I saw on the ground was that by taking too inclusive an approach, eg by trying to help everyone, the NGOs are helping no one.  The problems are too complex and resources too few to try and help the entire population of subsistence farmers in North East Brazil.  Rather, a comprehensive approach that tackles the full gamete of problems is needed, even if the tradeoff is to help a far fewer number of individuals.

If one does not take this approach, farmers like Balthazaar may succeed in the short-term.  Unfortunately, a single relatively minor drought threatens to wipe out nearly 8 years of progress.  Without providing at least security against the risks of drought, poor education, and access to the latest, albeit simple, farming techniques how are the Balthazaars of Brasil expected to permanently acquire the freedom of choice.

You may interpret what I have written as pessimistic and cold hearted, and you would be right.  However, while the world of Wall Street may appear far removed from that of subsistence farming at least one lesson can be learned from the bankers.  In environments with limited resources there are always tough but calculated decisions to be made.  If some subsistence farmers are to ever remove themselves from the vicious cycle of poverty inclusion is not the answer.  Rather focused selection with concentrated access to resources is needed.

Flooding in Cambridge, Drought in Brazil

Our study tour team is back in the United States now, and I am enjoying my last few days of being tan before the utter lack of sun here in New England turns me pale again.

I feel like I have been in conversations about water for weeks now. Here in New England in late March, we are talking a lot about water. We have too much, the soil is saturated and our rivers are flooding. My own basement is flooding even as I write this. 

In Brazil we heard over and over "Água é vida", water is life. The farmers we met with talked about their plans in terms of water: "When the rains come, this is what I will plant." and "it is only because we have this irrigation, this river, this cistern, that we are able to survive and to have enough to grow to sell at the market." 

Photo of Macajera, a kind of yam growing with irrigation. You can see Dorina's feet too!

We heard about life before there was irrigation, but also about life in the past when the rains came in March, or in February. "In the past, we were able to have two harvests per year, but now it is only one." We were not able to get hard numbers on the economic impact of reducing the number of harvests from 2 to 1, but I have to assume it is significant.

Meanwhile, here in New England, the farmers will also not be able to plant their fields in March, as they normally would. For small scale vegetable farmers the land is simply too wet and would drown the seedlings. For row crop and commodity farmers the danger of planing in wet fields includes the risk that the heavy machinery used to plant and fertilize the fields will compact the soil. This can lead to less porous soil which later in the year will not be able to hold moisture. Ironically, planting in wet weather will lead to a much greater susceptibility to drought later.

Here's a picture of our soaked campus sidewalk here at MIT. To the right of center you can see the storm drain, utterly unable to keep up.

I got curious about irrigation and looked up some stats on Brazil vs. the US in terms of irrigated arable land. It took a little figuring based on data from the CIA World Factbook but what I came up with is that although the US and Brazil are very similar in terms of total land area (Brazil is 92% of the land size of the US), the US has about 2.8 times the arable land that Brazil has. The US also has 2.7 times the irrigated land that Brazil has. In the US, 13.6% of the arable land is irrigated, and in Brazil it's just 3.5% of the arable land under irrigation. Maybe not as much of Brazil needs irrigation, but the part we were in certainly does. I wonder if this percentage will change over time? I think it should, for the same of farmers' resiliency, but then I also hope that irrigation is done in a smart way with a long term vision in mind. Messing around with holding, diverting, capturing, and storing water can get tricky.

The sharp contrast in my own setting over the past week reminds me of one of my first and favorite lessons from Biology, which was my undergraduate major. All reactions in a living organism strive toward equilibrium; osmosis allows cells to exchange their electrolytes and absorb sugars from the bloodstream. Photosynthesis allows plants to convert water, nutrients, and carbon dioxide into cellulose and tasty carbohydrates like bananas and papayas. 

All reactions strive toward equilibrium, but the only time equilibrium is ever reached throughout an organism is when it dies. I think there is a metaphor for people there; we are all dealing with excesses in some areas and deficiencies in others. Here in New England we have water that we would LOVE to give to the sertão in Brazil, but we can't. We will have to invest in drainage and new carpets. In Brazil, investments are underway to capture rainwater on small and large scales, like this clever system we saw in Afogados.

  

The rain captured in the gutter falls onto a shingle supported by what I think might be an old mop. The bricks are surrounding a sort of cistern which contains water for the household.

We live in a world that is out of balance, and I think it's important to work toward balance and equity and good rich moist soil that is neither to wet or too dry, too clay or too sand. But I also think that life is made a little more comfortable by living with the paradox that although all living creatures strive for balance, life itself includes constant and continual re-balance. 

I think the key then is resilience, like we saw in the farm field with its organic material left intentionally on the ground - keeping the soil a little cooler in hot weather and a little warmer in cool weather.

We also saw this with the agroecology communities, supporting each other and building a diversity of both crops and skills among their group members.

I'd like to believe that I gained some personal resiliency, by embarking on this adventure that included long bumpy bus rides, a lot of packing and repacking, multiple (fabulous) roommates, and a wide variety of new tastes and new sights. Traveling is indeed good for building character and gathering stories to tell!

How do you measure value?

As Americans, we sometimes have a propensity to overthink things in a way that can obscure the more obvious facts. Here is an example.

On Wednesday we met with Kishore Kunjeer, a broker at the mandi—the local wholesale market in Pune. We discussed how transactions at the market typically worked, who the buyers were, and what they were looking for. Then we started on the topic of organic produce, and he lit up a bit.

According to Kunjeer, there is an adequate and growing demand for organic produce among consumers. However, the current supply is very limited (0.5%) and not consistent. He was very optimistic that as farmers began to see how easily organic goods found buyers, they would begin to switch over and supply would increase. In the meantime, though, there is definitely a premium price on such produce.

In the U.S., folks who purchase organic produce are often part of a growing movement toward health-conscious eating. The higher price sometimes puts it out of reach, and thus the typical consumer of organics either has greater means or is more conscious of food sourcing and health effects than his or her peers. We asked Kunjeer about this, “Are the buyers of organic produce typically more well off than other consumers?” 

The answer was, “No.” Basically, he said, folks go to the retailer and see two tomatoes. One looks better than the other, and experience tells them that it will taste better. That’s the tomato they buy. It isn’t about a healthy living movement, per se. It’s about taste and feeding your family the best food you can. Unlike our increasingly processed and instant American diet, home cooking and fresh ingredients are still the expected norm here in India. So a few more rupees for a better tasting tomato is well worth the cost.

Imagine regarding taste as the highest measure of food’s value. It seems so obvious, but as Americans, we often calculate in quantity and added health benefits as other equally important factors. Think about your own trip through the supermarket aisles. If one batch of potatoes are $0.99 per pound and another is $0.75 per pound, how do you choose? For myself, I know I always lean toward the price that gives me more for my dollar. But if I buy five pounds of potatoes at the lower price, what have I saved? Approximately $1.25? But what may I have lost in freshness and quality?

There is definitely something to be learned from the Indian relationship to food. In general, Indian consumers spend a much larger percentage of their income on food. Stepping back for a moment, it seems odd that we put such a high value on the price tag when the difference is minimal to the average American wallet. This isn’t to say that organic produce in America comes with only a minimal mark up. It often costs quite a bit more. However, there seems to be an opportunity to make more carefully thought out decisions that balance cost and quality. After spending the last week dining here in India, I can tell you it’s worth the effort.

Perception is key

A couple nights ago, I met another Westerner here in Delhi. This person began to talk about the different classes that exist here in India and what a contrast it was to see the two so often side by side. A pocket of shanty dwellings will share a city block with newer buildings fully of pricey apartments, and this person described the site as both stark and heartbreaking. Later on the same night, I was having a conversation with a native Indian, and he made a similar observation—but with a very different conclusion. Isn’t it wonderful, he said, that all of the different social strata can live side by side here in peace. Neither conclusion is perfect (such observations seldom are), but each was valid in it’s own way.

This shines a light on an important lesson I learned this week: perception is key. Facts do not exist on their own. What I perceive and what an Indian perceives from the very same situation may be very different. And when you are talking about how to change the direction of farming in a nation where the vast majority of people are involved directly with agriculture, you need to be very aware of how the situation looks to those involved. Do they perceive a problem? Are there valid reasons for the way they currently operate that wouldn’t be apparent through a Western lense like my own?

On Tuesday we met with Jayant Barve. Barve is a guru of sorts for the organic farming movement. He comes to the conversation with over 20 years of experience farming organically and is an outspoken member of several related organizations, sometimes as a headline speaker. With Barve we discussed the science behind organic farming, the long-term impact of India’s Green Revolution, and the need to find more sustainable methods for feeding this nation’s one billion (plus) citizens.

One point Barve made, stood out from the big picture principles we had been discussing. When asked what the incentive was for the average small farmer to make the necessary changes to grow organically, he said, “A father wants to pass his land down to his son, and he wants to make sure that when that time comes, the land will still produce.”

In all of our internal discussions prior to this about sustainable practices and market viability, I don’t recall ever considering the farmer’s own legacy. We talk about the future of India, and we talk about feeding a nation. But we don’t address directly what the farmer will leave behind. This is not to say that farmers are not motivated by plant yield and market prices, but that isn’t always the entire story. For some farmers here, there is also a desire to take care of their families beyond the now and into future generations. Land in India is a valuable commodity, and if switching over to organic practices prolongs and strengthens that value, then that can be a tipping point.

The Translator

by Ernesto Machado

As the translator I was supposed to be the local expert. I wasn’t terribly worried about not being Brazilian, but reality hit me when one of the MIT students asked if I had ever been to Afogados da Ingazeira before.

I had not. And I wondered if this would become a problem.

In spite of my travels within Brazil in the last three years, I had only visited the sertão twice, and both were very brief visits. So close to Recife and Olinda, yet so far from my daily life by the Atlantic Ocean.

Off we went into the sertão, and I was armed only with the imagery that Brazilian popular culture has created for these “hinterlands”. Books like Os Sertões, films like Abril Despedaçado, the music of Luiz Gonzaga: Brazilian culture treats the interior of the Northeastern states like a magical theater, and it’s easy to overlook the reality of those who inhabit the sertão.

So as the bus made its way six hours west, Cordel do Fogo Encantado sang: “O sabiá no sertão, quando canta me comove…  tem a obrigação de só cantar quando chove.” (“I’m stirred when the sabiá bird sings in the sertão … its duty is to sing only when it rains.”) We passed their native Arcoverde and spent a night in Afogados da Ingazeira before heading out to a town I had never heard of, Quixaba. And then we went a bit further, six kilometers outside of the tiny village. The expat translator was, without a doubt, a fish out of water.

In this part of the sertão, the sabiá had not been heard in two months. As proof of this I had to look no further than my own feet, kicking up dust in Seu Baltazar’s fields. It is at that point that pop culture imagery comes crashing down and becomes reality. “People DO live here,” I realized, and I came up with my own list of questions, outside of the scope of the research trip. As the students learn about irrigation and agriculture and entrepreneurship, the translator learns about a reality much different than that of the millions that live on the shores of the Atlantic Ocean. Life for this family of nine is too far removed to be quantified merely by the six or seven hours of asphalt we had traveled.

Still, I tried to limit myself to translation duties. That is, to not interfere in the research, the questions, the interviews. After all, the trip was for the students and not for the translator. But I admit that at times a small bit of my own curiosity leapt through, turning the trip into a learning experience for everyone involved.

Thank you.

 

How can a small farm entrepreneur innovate?

by Adah Chan

We drove six hours west of Recife into the state of Penambuco to the town of Afogados da Ingazeira, where we met local staff of Diaconia, an NGO that works with small family farmers engaged in agroecological farming. Our group of 12 then broke up into teams of 3 and headed out to spend a day and a night with family farms in the region.

Aaron, Ernesto and I stayed with Baltazar, his wife Josefa, and three of their nine children (the other children are grown and live nearby or in Rio).  Since the focus of our study tour was innovation and entrepreneurship, I began to think about Baltazar in this light almost immediately after meeting him.  The typical entrepreneur who comes to speak with us at MIT Sloan works at a tech start-up in Cambridge.  Could Baltazar, a farmer in a remote region of northeast Brazil, also be considered an innovator and entrepreneur? 

Baltazar lives on the same land where he grew up in a subsistence farming family. Baltazar’s first step as an entrepreneur was his decision to switch to agroecological farming in 2001. Agroecological farming takes an "ecological approach to agriculture, respecting the earth's natural cycles, using chemical-free, organic techniques, and farming with respect to indigenous practices, local technologies, and modern or innovative techniques". Baltazar confessed that the most challenging aspect of abandoning conventional farming was ‘leaving behind pesticides and believing that agroecological farming works’. It was a considerable investment for Baltazar, given that his farm needed to support 9 children in a semi-arid region of Brazil.

Since the switch, Baltazar has implemented many new technologies and farming methods. He installed two cisterns, which he uses to store water for livestock. He also has a well that supplies a drip-irrigation system for his 50 guava and pinha trees. Two years ago, Baltazar started to grow organic cotton. This year, Baltazar and his neighbour applied for a beehive project and received a R3000 grant from the Ministry of Agriculture to purchase equipment for 8 boxes to keep bees, which yield 7 litres of honey each. He is harvesting honey for the first time this week! Recently, a nearby farmer friend installed the first bio digester in the region and Baltazar hopes that he too will soon be able to install a bio digester to turn his cow dung into methane for fuel.

 
Photo: Baltazar's well (5m deep) for irrigation

Photo: Baltazar and me - by his cistern  

Baltazar is not just a farmer: he is a bee keeper, owns 60 animals, makes cheese with his milk, grows organic cotton, harvests tropical fruit produce, and to top it off he was one of the first farmers to sell door-to-door to his customers.

In all these ways, Baltazar is certainly an entrepreneur. He is open to new ideas and never hesitates to experiment. He took up project after project not only to increase income – he now sells half of his produce to market - but also to fuel his interests with experimentation, risk-taking and ownership.

Entrepreneurial spirit is abundant in the agroecological farming communities we visited. These small farmers took on a new way of farming, not, as one would perhaps assume for survival, but to carve out new market opportunities. The farmers collectively sell their produce at the local farm fair twice a week and brand their goods ‘agroecological’.

I am still left wondering about the role of innovation in this community. The strategies - irrigation, bio processing, and market linkages - that makes entrepreneurship possible comes solely from Diaconia, which works with the farmers on implementation and training. Innovation starts and fuels entrepreneurship but how can it be sustained and scaled if (1) the farmers depends heavily on innovation from an external source (Diaconia) and (2) the farmers do not have the means or the capacity to come up with new innovation? 

Photos: Agroecological Farmers (in green uniforms) selling their produce at the local market  

I sell a concept

by Erica Dhawan

Photo: Farmer team with Mr. Kasi, Zameen Organics

“I don’t sell a commodity in Zameen, I sell a concept. How can I, I as 6,000 farmers, bring value to a product?”

The organic cotton movement in India is not just about organic cotton, it’s about water and energy savings, women’s empowerment, soil nutrition, and farmer health. Zameen Organics is a farmer-owned company trading cotton through a simple ethical supply chain rather than in a knot of middlemen.

·         Pesticide Free Health Impact: India is home to 1/3 of the world’s cotton farmers, their crops accounting for 54% of the country’s annual pesticide consumption despite growing on only 5% of its arable land. The effects of pesticide exposure include weakness, cramps, unconsciousness, convulsions, and potentially death. Zameen Organics supports pesticide free cotton farmers, supporting  their health and their families.

·         Economic Development: Schemes by the Government of India and international chemical fertilizer companies have caused farmers to become trapped in the debt cycle. Every year 120,000 farmers commit suicide deaths in India. Zameen seeks to build a fair trade organic movement to rid farmers of this debt trap.

·         Female Empowerment:  In addition to the manual labor by women, women must provide domestic duties. They do not have the ability to own property, leading to a harder life in accessing credit, labor, and subsidized inputs. Zameen supports women cotton farmers, improving their access to fair wages and domestic needs. 

As a business school student, I was inspired by the potential for new innovative business plans in Indian agriculture. Whether geared towards reducing crop waste, building a value chain, or selling a fair trade organic brand, this study tour has helped me see the opportunities to start companies that are economically, environmentally, and socially viable.

Can dual agricultural markets co-exist?

by Daria Kaboli

“In light of the characteristics of agricultural development occurring in the country, it can be affirmed that serious agrarian problems exist in Brazil that need a solution. However, this situation is characterized as a problem only by the working class. For the dominant elite, for those who benefit from this type of development, agrarian problems do not exist; on the contrary, it represents a great opportunity for profit and well-being. ” -- The Brazil Reader

We have traveled now to two different regions of Brazil: the sprawling city of Sao Paulo and Brazil’s third largest city: Recife, located in the North East. We are now traveling to Afogados Ingazeira to see first-hand the challenges that small farmers face.  In our meetings with city folk so far, it’s been interesting to see the elite perspective: all agriculture is a commodity and the only way to compete is through large volumes and small margins. When asked how small farmers can compete, we are told they can’t. When we ask what advice they, as commodity traders, have for small farmers, we hear silence.  It’s interesting to see how many assumptions go unchallenged.

What is becoming clear is that there is little attention given to models that don’t conform to globalized views of the marketplace. We know borders are becoming ever more porous but especially when it comes to perishables like food, does it make sense to base market strategies on global trends? It seems implausible that mangos in Brazil, no matter how much more competitively they can be grown elsewhere, will ever be displaced by mangos from an external source. This leaves me to ask, can there be a sort of dual market place? Could big scale production of certain crops be mixed with small scale production of many of the same goods and can they co-exist peacefully? We will find out more tomorrow during our stay with small farmers…

Food for Thought: FabIndia

On Saturday, while most of the team was in Agra, Lilian Tse and I decided to venture to Khan Market in Delhi to FabIndia.

FabIndia started as an export house and has become a successful retail business presenting Indian textiles in a variety of natural fibers and home products including furniture, lights, lamps, stationery, home accessories, pottery and cutlery in the Indian domestic market

The FabIndia Organics section, which started in 2004, caught my eye. It was there where I saw the potential for organic processed foods: organic rice, honey mustard, turmeric powders, spices and teas across shelves.

I picked up Bill Bissell’s (CEO of FabIndia ) book, “Making India work.” His vision is to reimagine India-a future with rapid growth, thriving environment, and virtually no poverty. He notes that while regular consumption does not lead to a higher quality of life, conscious consumerism of environmentally sustainable products can have multifarious positive externalities across the value chain.